Letting go of Bunko rules and not a bottle of wine

I used to play in a Bunko group through the moms club I'm affiliated with. Unfortunately, that group just couldn't keep it going and it disintegrated well over a year ago. One of the moms from Morgan's class had sent an email to all the moms in the class to see if anyone was interested in getting a regular Bunko game or book club going. I immediately voted for the Bunko group since I was all about the possibility of a monthly night of gambling and boozing it up. Okay, so maybe it's not quite like that, but it's close.

Anyway, I offered that I had the gear and stuff and gave a few suggestions on logistics. Another woman in the group offered some suggestions on the logistics also. I figured it's certainly not worth arguing about and that we, as a group of women, could discuss the options and figure out how we wanted to run the group as a whole.

Except this woman who had the other ideas? Yeah, well she ended up being the first hostess tonight due to a last minute emergency situation and because of that, guess what? Yeah, we ended doing things her way. Which, even though I'm somewhat of a control freak, I've gotten better about letting go and doing things someone else's way. Except that when I offered her a differing idea, she kept making comments.

When she talked about the fact that the hostess would determine how the pots are split up, that night, she talked about the fact that it's more fun that way. Well, I guess it could be, except for ME PERSONALLY, I think it's more fun to win a BIG jackpot for something like most Bunkos as opposed to just earning my measly $10 back. I mean, where's the excitement in that. But, I didn't say a word. Not one single word. Then, there was the way that everyone was asked to pay their money. She was like "just throw it in the basket" and I was like "Oh. Okay. We used to have an envelope that you'd write your name on once you put your money in the pot so that you knew who still needed to pay (and there was always someone!). Her comment? "Oh, my group is way more laid back. We just trust each other." Although, I should have gotten the message when in the classroom, earlier that day, while discussing what time Bunko would be over, I said that we used to play to 9:30 or so to which she replied that she'd been playing with her group for five years and now they are great friends and that they play well past midnight. So obviously me and my uptight group all hate each other because we wanted to get home to our husbands, and in some cases kids who were still awake, at 9:30. What prudes we are!

Anyway, as hard as it may be to believe, I kept my mouth shut. I played Bunko and smiled as the lackluster prizes were handed out. I thanked the hostess and then, as I was struggling to get out the door (trapped by a "talker"), it happened. I was holding a basket with all the Bunko stuff in it and with the same wine bottle in it, that I had brought to Bunko, still unopened. I felt a slight movement in the basket and before I could even look down, the bottle had rolled out of the basket and fallen onto the CERAMIC TILE floor. Yeah. Did I mention it was a Syrah? Full-bodied red wine EVERYWHERE. Up the baseboards and onto the wall. Oops. I felt HORRIBLE! I struggled to clean it up without making too much more of a mess and was stuck there watching the hostess mop and vacuum up the entire bottle.

Of course, Lance reminded me when I got home that karma is a bitch.